


Stealing Pavel

by der_tanzer



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-08
Updated: 2011-03-08
Packaged: 2017-10-16 19:32:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chekov falls in love with the wrong man. And then the right one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Bad Night

**Author's Note:**

> Beta and approval by Oddmonster, my partner in Trek.

Pavel Chekov woke in the night to the feel of a warm body pressed to his back. Lieutenant Steele—Ken. He turned over and felt strong arms around him, bearing him down. He spread his legs and Ken settled on top of him, kissing him hard.

In the three weeks they’d been together, Chekov had gotten used to this behavior. In fact, since he was eighteen years old and it was his first real love affair, he absolutely wallowed in it. Stolen moments in turbolifts and the corners of empty corridors, fucking like bunnies in Steele’s quarters until they fell asleep, exhausted, and waking in the night to do it again. If he was lucky, there would be more before they got up in the morning, and then it would be back to stealing kisses for another day.

Ken Steele was twenty-four, a more reasonable age for a Starfleet officer. He worked in engineering, which was Pavel’s second favorite place, right after the bridge. And he had experience in the areas where Pavel was most lacking, like sex and love. Chekov had learned to do things in the last three weeks that he never imagined before, things that frightened him a little with their intensity. But Ken loved him. He was sure of that. Ken loved him and would allow no harm to come to him.

So he let his lover turn him over and fuck him, for either the third time today, or the first time tomorrow. He wasn’t sure and it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Ken’s hand around his cock, squeezing him tight between the mattress and his body, jerking him to a frantic climax while thrusting into his tight little ass.

Twenty minutes later, Pavel was cuddled in his arms, drifting off to sleep feeling warm and safe and loved.

***

“Well, hi there, Chekov,” Scotty said cheerfully as the ensign sat down on the floor beside him. Scotty was halfway under a console, rewiring something with quick, efficient gestures. “Wha’s going on, lad?”

“Nothing. I was just looking for Lieutenant Steele. I did not see him at his station. Is he not here?”

“Steele? He was here a while ago. Ye’ve been spending a fair bit of time wi’ him, haven’t ye? Got some sort o’ romance going, I imagine.”

He nodded, blushing with shy pride.

“Well, I wish ye luck, laddie. He’s a playboy, tha’ one. Worked his way through most o’ the ensigns in engineering this past year.”

“He loves me,” Chekov said, still shy, but with pride beginning to overcome it. “I am not worried about that.”

“Tha’s good. So, while yer waiting, do ye want to help me out wi’ this?”

“Da, certainly. What can I do, Commander?”

“Crawl on under here an’ hold this panel while I find the bleeding screws.”

“Happy to.” Chekov lay down cheerfully and slid under the console beside him. He held the metal panel in place on the underside while Scotty attached it, and then slid out again. He offered Scotty his hand and the engineer took it, pulling himself to his feet.

“Yer stronger than ye look there, laddie,” he said with a smile.

“Is no trouble. Oh, while I am here, I wanted to ask you a question. I was running algorit’ms on ze bridge computer and I kept hitting a snag. Ze computer cannot be wrong, yet I could not find ze error.”

“Aye? Show me wha’ ye were doing, then, and maybe we can figure it out.”

They sat down side by side at the console and Chekov started his program, slender fingers flying over the keys. Scotty watched with keen admiration, thinking as he always did how much he’d like to have a partner like this. Someone quick and smart and—and pretty. The lad was just plain pretty, and the more he tried to ignore it, the more obvious it seemed.

No one suspected that Scotty had a crush on the ship’s youngest officer. Chekov was always hanging around engineering during his off hours, asking questions and pitching in wherever he could, but that had nothing to do with Scotty. Chekov just liked to help. He was the most useful person on the ship, in Scotty’s opinion, and ever since he started seeing Lieutenant Steele, he was there more than ever. That was the upside. The downside was that Chekov was seeing Lt. Steele.

Scotty wasn’t the kind of man to get in the middle of other people’s relationships, but he had a lot of reasons for not liking this one. It wasn’t just that he wanted the ensign for himself. He also knew too much about Steele. The guy was more than a heartbreaker, he was a dog. It was a statement to Chekov’s intrinsic and undeniable irresistibility that the affair had lasted as long as it had. None of the others had made it to their three week anniversary. Scotty told himself he might be wrong. Chekov might be the man to capture Steele’s heart and keep it. Which would be good for them, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

“Oh, Commander, I have to go. I am late for—for dinner.”

“Meeting yer boyfriend, are ye? Well, have a good time, laddie.”

“I will. Thank you for all your help, Mr. Scott,” he said, blushing again. Chekov was a bright man, an exceptional physicist and an outstanding officer, but he was still young. Too young to be able to discuss his boyfriend with a superior officer whom he admired, and possibly even held in awe. He went away smiling, forgetting that Ken hadn’t showed up to meet him as he’d promised, and looking forward to finding him in the mess.

Lieutenant Steele was there, sitting between a handsome young ensign from Medical and a civilian girl who didn’t belong in the officer’s mess. Another young man was across from him, this one a Security officer, leaning over the table on his elbows to whisper to them. They all laughed and Chekov, cheerful and indomitable, bounced over to see what was so funny. He took the only empty chair, between the security guy, whose name was Chase or Chance, something like that, and the civilian girl. They all looked at him, vaguely curious, and Steele frowned.

“Hello, Ken. I missed you in engineering. Were you busy?”

“Yeah, hey, kid. I just didn’t feel like going down there. It _is_ my day off, you know. Didn’t you get my message?”

“No, I did not get a message,” he said, only slightly abashed. “Vas zer something else you vanted to do?” His accent was beginning to thicken, a sure sign of distress, and it didn’t get any better when Ken turned to the redshirt and rolled his eyes. “Ken?” he said again, even more softly.

“I was just getting ready to go to the movie with Chase and Amanda and Justin. You’re welcome to join us if you want,” he added, but his tone clearly indicated he was just being polite. He wasn’t really very good at it. “But it’s kind of, you know, a grownup film. Probably nothing you’d be interested in.”

“ _Ze Zilver Butterfly_? I—I vould like to see zat,” he said hesitantly, ashamed of his inability to speak clearly. Ken rolled his eyes again and Amanda smothered a smile with her hand. Chase gave them each a glance but didn’t meet Chekov’s eyes. “If you vould razzer go wit’ your friends, zat iz fine wit’ me. I—I vill see you later.” He was looking steadily at Ken, hoping for a sign of friendliness, some hint as to what this all meant, but there was nothing.

“Yeah, about that. I’m going to be really busy the next few days, Pavel. But, you know, I’ll look you up sometime. Maybe.”

Chekov just sat there for a moment, his indefinable eyes shifting subtly from cheerful blue to frightened green, and then everyone burst out laughing. At him. At his stricken face and broken heart. He got up and scurried for the exit, the sound of their laughter following him, chasing him out the door like dogs at his heels.

But once he was in the corridor, he didn’t know where to go. He couldn’t go back to his quarters where Sulu would ask what had happened to his date, and engineering was out for the same reason. He couldn’t face Mr. Scott, who was so friendly and kind, and who had apparently been trying to warn him. It was so obvious now that Mr. Scott knew all along, but he hadn’t listened. No, he’d been superior and bold and said that he was different. That he was special. That Ken loved _him_ when he hadn’t loved any of the others. Chekov had never felt so stupid in all his life. He couldn’t go back to engineering ever again, partly because Ken would be there, and because Mr. Scott would know. If he laughed, too—and he would, Chekov was suddenly sure that everyone would—it would be more than he could stand. He would have to leave the ship, and right now, the _Enterprise_ was all he had to cling to. Head hanging, he decided to go to the track and run some laps. Sometimes that helped when nothing else did.

He went down to the locker room and changed into his shorts and tank top. Tears dropped onto his hands as he tied his shoes and he swiped them away angrily, cursing at himself in Russian. At least the track was empty. For now he could keep his shame to himself.

Chekov started jogging at a reasonable pace, warming up slowly. But the more he thought about those people whispering with Ken—his _lover_ , damn it, _his_ —and Ken laughing with them, the faster he had to run. His stride lengthened and his breathing grew ragged as he pushed himself harder, trying to outrun his thoughts. Maybe it was a misunderstanding. Maybe Ken had forgotten to send the message, or it had been lost, and he was punishing Pavel for a perceived slight. But why did he laugh? It made more sense for him to be angry, but there had been no sign that he was. And what was meant by _I’ll look you up sometime_? Why had he said _Maybe_? Was Ken ashamed of him? Was he too young? Too Russian? Too—too goofy?

Some of his friends had called him that back at the academy and Sulu sometimes did, too. It had never bothered him. He knew he was a little bit goofy, maybe too enthusiastic and bubbly for some people, but he liked himself just fine. His friends liked him. Sulu was a great guy and he was Chekov’s best friend. That counted for something, right? Even Mr. Scott, who was brilliant and beloved by the crew, liked him. Surely Mr. Scott, of all people, wouldn’t spend so much time working with Pavel if he didn’t think he was worth the trouble.

This was the first time he’d ever questioned if he was worth anyone’s time or trouble. Pavel was used to being the shining star, his parents’ pride and joy, the favorite of all his teachers from grade school through the academy. The captain liked him, and even Dr. McCoy had admitted his usefulness after he saved the ship four or five times. But his lover, an engineering lieutenant whose primary hobby was apparently screwing ensigns, had found him—insignificant. Laughable. Chekov wasn’t egotistical, but he had never seen himself as anyone’s joke.

Then it struck him. Maybe he was a bad lover. He stumbled and went to his knees, skinning them badly. Maybe all the things he’d learned were wrong. Maybe Ken had been using him and laughing at him all along. Laughing _with his friends_ all along. Dear God, maybe that’s what they were _all_ laughing about. Everyone on the ship could be laughing at him by breakfast. Or maybe they had been for days.

That thought was the final straw. Pavel felt something give in his chest, a sharp stabbing pain, as he had felt in battle but never associated with emotional hurt. Kneeling there on the track, he put his hands over his face and wept with the helpless grief of a child.

***

When Ken returned to his quarters with Justin the Medical ensign, Chekov was waiting outside his door. He was still dressed in his running clothes, blood crusted on his knees and in trails down his shins.

“Hey, Pavel, what are you doing here? I thought…”

“Vhat? Vhat did you zink, Ken? I know vhat I zought. I—I zought you—you low’ed me. You _zaid_ you low’ed me.”

“Yeah, look, kid. People say stuff like that, okay? It was just a fling, you know? We had a good time, but it doesn’t mean anything. I thought you knew that. _Everyone_ knows that.”

“No, Ken, not e’weryone,” he said, trying not to sob. “You—you _zaid_ —”

“People say a lot of things,” Ken repeated. “Like I said, we had a good time. But, you know, it’s run its course. It’s not a big deal.”

“Yez, it iz,” he said, sobbing now, dying of shame and unable to stop it. “You vere my first… And I—I lo—I lo’we…” he trailed off, unable to force any more words past the choking knot in his throat.

“Sex isn’t love, kid. It’s just fucking. I thought a genius like you would know that.”

Now Justin from Medical laughed, cold and mocking, and Ken joined in. He keyed the entry code to his quarters and they went inside, leaving the sobbing Pavel behind. For a moment he thought his knees wouldn’t hold him and then he was off and running again, blinded by tears and not caring where he was going anyway.

There’s no telling where he might have ended up or what might have happened to him if a piece of good luck hadn’t occurred, in the form of the last thing in the universe that he wanted. He flew down the corridor, out of breath, ignoring a painful stitch in his side, and ran smack into Mr. Scott, who was quartered on the same deck as Lieutenant Steele and just on his way home for the night. They both crashed to the floor, Chekov skinning his hands on the carpet and tearing the crusted scabs on his knees. As soon as he saw who he was sprawled on top of, he rolled off and tried to rise. But his arms and legs were rubbery with exhaustion and he collapsed again, scraping his cheek this time.

“Wha’ the bloody fuck?” Scotty cried, as soon as he could breathe. “Mr. Chekov? Wha’s wrong, lad?”

He turned on his back and covered his face with both hands, unable to look at his friend. If only he could sink through the deck, or at least transport himself directly to his quarters, this night might become bearable. All the technology they had at their disposal, and they still couldn’t do place to place transporting aboard the ship without setting up beforehand. He thought vaguely that he might work on that, it would be a good project for his free time, and then Mr. Scott was speaking.

“Mr. Chekov? Pavel?”

He jerked away, but still couldn’t get up. All he could do was lie there and shake, wishing he’d never even heard of Starfleet. Then Mr. Scott was sitting up, sliding an arm behind his shoulders and lifting him up, too.

“Are ye all right, laddie? No, I can see yer not. Can ye stand? Should I get the doctor?”

“Nyet,” he gasped out sharply. “No, I do not need a doktor. Thank you, no.”

“Hey, calm doon, Chekov.” He felt the boy trying to pull away and tightened his grip. “Take a minute an’ breathe.”

Pavel resisted the urge to either flee or lean into him and instead sat stiff and still, hands on his eyes. Gradually, his chest loosened enough for him to breathe, but his heart didn’t slow and he began to fear it would explode. Then Scotty was touching his wrists, pulling his hands from his face, and he gave up. Keeping his eyes closed, he dropped his head to the commander’s shoulder and sobbed. Footsteps approached and Pavel flinched, wanting to run again. Scotty held onto him, refusing to let him get away before he at least knew the boy was all right. He knew that he wasn’t when Pavel buried his face against his neck to hide from the newcomer. This was the closest they’d ever been and he knew poor Chekov wouldn’t be climbing all over him if he was in his right mind.

The stranger said something, pausing beside them, and Pavel kept his eyes closed tight.

“No, thank ye, ensign. We’re fine,” Scotty said firmly. The footsteps moved on. “All right, laddie. Let’s get ye up and see wha’s wha’.”

He nodded unhappily but let Scotty drag him to his feet. His knees burned, the blood that trickled down his legs itched, and he feared he might get a black eye from the whack on the floor. It wasn’t how he wanted to be seen by anyone, but at least the commander was a friend. He might laugh, everyone would, but he’d probably do it in private. And at the moment, Chekov couldn’t see any way out that wouldn’t make him look even worse. He’d already run away crying. Now he needed to act like a man.

“I am all right, Mr. Scott,” he said bravely. “I—I am sorry. Please, I—I should go back to my quarters.”

“Not jus’ yet, laddie. Why don’ ya come wi’ me? We’ll get ye cleaned up, have a cuppa tea, an’ ye can tell me wha’s goin’ on here. Or not, if it’s tae personal.”

“You already know.”

“Do I?”

“Do you not?” He let Scotty lead him down the corridor with an arm around his shoulders, limping slowly but with his back straight and his head high.

“Something to do wi’ Mr. Steele, I imagine. Things did nae go the way ya hoped?”

He shook his head, not wanting to talk about it in the corridor. Scotty understood that it was a delay, not a refusal, and didn’t say anything else until they were in his quarters. Scotty sat him down on his bunk and got some warm water and a cloth to bathe his injured knees.

“You do not ha’ to do zat, Commander,” he said nervously.

“Nonsense. Ye need someone tae take care of ya for a few minutes, at least. An’ I’m gonna ask ye a question tha’ yer not gonna like, but I think it’s my responsibility as yer friend an’ superior officer. An’ I know ye, laddie, so I’ll know if yer lying.”

“I would not lie to you, Mr. Scott.”

“No, I know ye wouldn’t. An’ it should nae be any o’ my business, but I have tae ask. Are ye hurt, ensign?”

“Am I… No, sir, it is only a few scrapes.” Pavel touched his cheek lightly, feeling the raw skin and the beginning of the swelling that preceded a real shiner.

“Aye, I can see tha’ much. But tha’ is nae wha’ I’m asking. The question at hand is, did _Lieutenant Steele_ hurt you?”

“Did—Ken? No. No, Mr. Scott, he did not touch me.” Chekov drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I found him ha’ing dinner wit’ his friends. They had plans that did not—include me.”

“I see.” Scotty rinsed the cloth in cooling water and dabbed at his knee again. “Ought tae have the doctor take a look at this.”

“No,” he said quickly. “Please, I—Mr. Scott…”

“Monty tae my friends, lad.”

Chekov stifled a sob and rubbed at his eyes again. He wasn’t sure how much niceness he could stand.

“Monty, zen,” he choked out. “I do not—you do not underztand. Zey—zey _laughed_ at me. He dumped me in front of his new one-night man and zey all _laughed_. I vill not let anyone else zee zat I am hurt.”

“All right, Pavel,” he murmured, speaking the boy’s name for the first time. “If tha’s how ye want it. A man’s entitled to his pride.”

“What pride? Monty, I am finished. Eweryone vill be laughing at me forewer.”

“No, they won’t. Gossip flies around a starship, but it has nae got any stamina.”

“And vhat am I to do until zen?”

“Right now? Replicate yerself some clothes an’ join me for a drink.”

While Chekov was dressing in the head, Scotty poured him a glass of vodka and drank a quick belt of scotch.

“You keep wodka on hand?” Chekov asked, coming out in a pair of soft pajama pants and t-shirt.

“Aye, well, I entertain a bit. Have to admit, the vodka’s not tha’ popular, but ye never know.” He blushed a little and it caught Pavel off guard. As if the commander had kept it on hand just for him. Thinking that made him blush, too, and he took the drink, swallowing half of it to cover.

Scotty noticed with a tinge of admiration that he took it without so much as a cough. He topped off the glass, poured himself another scotch, and sat down on the bunk. After a brief hesitation, Chekov sat beside him and they leaned against the wall together.

“Are ye feeling any better, lad?”

“I am not drunk enough yet to feel better. I am such a fool, Co—Monty. I thought he lo—loved me.” With a little effort, he hit a solid v and celebrated with another gulp of vodka. “I told eweryone zat—that—and eweryone had to know ze truth. You tried to tell me, too. I am so _stupid_.”

“No, Pavel. Ye are nae stupid, nor foolish. Yer young, an’ ye loved him.”

“I do not know,” he sighed. “He said zat it was not love. He said it was—just fucking.”

“Maybe for him. But what ye feel is—is yer feelings. If ye were in love, if ye still are, no one can take that away from ya.”

“He can. I refuse to be in love wit’ a man who would—would laugh at me like zat. Who would _use_ me.” He got up and crossed the room to the liquor cabinet, returning to the bed with the vodka bottle. He refilled his glass, drank it off, and filled it again.

Looking at him, Scotty could see the long line of bold Russian conquerors who were his heritage. Men who sat around fires wearing furs and drinking their vodka straight from the bottle. His heart skipped a beat and he was glad Chekov couldn’t tell.

“I vill pay you back for ze wodka,” he said, and drained the glass. The bottle clinked against the rim as he refilled it, but he didn’t spill.

“No, don’ ye worry about tha’.”

“Nyet, I insist. Zo, I do not _love_ him anymore,” he went on, making sure he enunciated that tricky word properly. “How can I? He _used_ me. He was my first lover, you know. I zought I was special. I zought ze—ze zings we did vere—important. I would ne’er have done zose zings if I knew he did not care. I am not zat kind of man. Or at least I did not want to be. Zat is vhat hurts, Monty. He vas not honest. He decee—deceew—deceiwed me. I am not saying I did not enjoy it—he did not hurt me—but I vould raz—rather have known. I would haw—ha’ vaited for someone who cared for me.”

“Aye, sure ye would. Yer a good lad. An’ if ye want someone to have a wee word wi’ the lieutenant, he does work under me. I’d be happy to let him know tha’ we frown on this sort o’ thing. Toying wi’ the hearts of innocent young ensigns.” He downed the rest of his scotch and Pavel handed him his vodka glass.

“Drink zat. I be right back.” He got up and fetched the whiskey bottle so Scotty could have a proper refill. He took back his empty glass and set it on the floor in favor of swigging from the bottle, just as Scotty had imagined. His heart skipped again, hands shaking as he filled his glass, his cock twitching against his thigh. He capped the bottle and drank deeply, hoping it would kill his arousal.

“Nyet, Monty. You should zay noz—nothing. Do not let him know zat I vas hurt. He has already zeen me cry.”

“No,” Scotty said, aghast. “Ye cried an’ he dinnae take ye back? The man is made o’ stone.”

“Ze man iz trash. But, Monty, be honest. Does zis make me trash as vell? Vill people judge me for being such a fool?”

“No, laddie. Everyone likes ya tae much fer tha’. Yer the smartest, kindest, cutest little bugger on the ship. Ye’ll have a new man, a better man, by the end o’ the week.”

“You zink I am cute?”

“Not a matter o’ thinking, wee Pavel. It’s an objective fact.”

“Really?” Chekov drained the bottle and dropped it on the floor, then collapsed flat on his back. “I am cute?”

“Yer adorable an’ I think ye know it. Stop teasing an old man, now.”

“You are not old, Monty. You are in ze prime of life, at ze peak of your career. I vould like to ha’ your life. I bet you new’er get fooled by sneaky girls.”

“Well, girls are nae exactly my thing. Still, I know wha’ ye mean. It’s been a long time since I got dumped like tha’. Probably because it’s been a long time since I had a date.”

“You? But you are chief engineer. You are ze smartest man on ze ship.”

“Second, maybe.” He leaned over Chekov and put his bottle on the floor. Chekov looked up at him with a cheerful puppy grin and his cock did more than twitch. He sat back and finished his drink. He’d definitely had enough, but that grin unnerved him a little. “Being smart doesnae get a man laid, my lad. It has a lot more tae do wi’ toned muscle an’ a full head o’ hair.” He put his glass aside, losing track of it at once, and flopped down beside the boy.

“Do you zink zo?”

“Aye. I know so. But it won’ matter much tae ye, laddie. Ye’ll be adorable for many a year tae come.”

“Da, maybe. But vhat iz ze use vhen it attracts men like zat?”

“Ye attract all manner o’ people, Chekov. One o’ them’ll be right.”

“Pasha.”

“Wha’s that?”

“My good friends call me Pasha. Monty.”

“Oh, aye.” Scotty turned on his side, one arm folded up under his head, and met Pavel’s eyes. “Pasha. Tha’s cute.”

“Do you not know zat you are also cute? I ha’ always liked you wery much. You are a good friend to me. Ze kind of man I always vished vould like me back.”

“Is tha’ wha’ ye want, wee Pasha? A middle-aged engineer wi’ no hair?” he asked, not meaning anything serious by it. But Pavel reached up and ran his hand through Scotty’s hair, slow and lingering.

“Maybe,” he said, smiling a silly drunken smile. “Do you not vant an adorable genius vit’ toned muscles?”

Scotty put his hand on Pavel’s taught stomach, feeling the definition of his muscles through his thin shirt. By now his dick was fully erect, almost painfully so, and the way Pavel’s smile widened told him that he’d noticed.

“Yer in nae kinda shape for this, Pasha. Yer drunk an’ ye’ve just had yer heart broken. I’d be takin’ advantage.”

“You are my friend, Monty. All ze time I spent in engineering—I met Ken because I vas down zere to zee you. But I did not zink you liked me zo much. You ne’wer zaid, and you let me go out vit’ zat rat of a lieutenant.”

“Ye mean I could ‘ave stopped ye?”

“If you had zaid you wanted me, I vould ha’ chosen you vit’out a zought.” He was still playing with Scotty’s thinning hair, winding it around his fingers, gently massaging his scalp. “I only did not know zat you vould ha’ accepted my offer.”

“An’ I didnae know ye’d accept mine.”

“I vould. I vould accept now, too. Monty.”

“No, Pasha, not tonight. Not when yer so drunk ye cannae hardly talk.”

“May I stay vit’ you anyvay? Zo I do not ha’ to valk back to my quarters and explain to Hikaru?”

“Aye, of course. An’ if ye still like me tomorrow…”

“I vill, Monty. I vill alvays like you.” He was drifting away now, his last mutterings rendered incomprehensible by vodka and sleep, and when Scotty wrapped his arm all the way around the slender body, he snuggled easily into the embrace. “Goodnight, Monty,” he murmured. He pressed his face to Scotty’s shoulder, sighing contentedly as a friendly hand cradled the back of his head.

“Goo’nigh’, wee Pasha.” Scotty was a little less drunk and he lay awake pondering the situation. It would be wonderful to wake up sober and find that the lad still felt the same as he had when he was sloshed. Ever since he first found himself on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ , soaking wet and completely confused, hearing a steady stream of heavily accented brilliance pour from that adorable mouth, he’d wanted to be right where he was now: in bed with his arms around this slender body.

But they hadn’t made love and he was not yet free to touch. And if Pavel woke in the morning regretful or ashamed, their friendship would be ruined and all would be lost. So ran his thoughts, until Pavel moved closer and draped one long leg over Scotty’s hip. Maybe in his sleep he thought he was with Lieutenant Steele, or maybe he didn’t care who it was, but Scotty vowed to himself that he would make this work. Somehow, in the morning, he would know exactly what to say and how to say it. Somehow, he would make this perfect man his own.


	2. A Good Morning

Pavel woke feeling as warm and safe as he was accustomed to, but there was something different about it. The body he cuddled against was bigger than Ken, softer, and he rubbed his eyes open with one hand to see who it was. _Oh, Mr. Scott._ This was a nice development. He closed his eyes again and snuggled back into that soft warmth. He had only a slight headache from the vodka and it looked like it could be a nice day.

The movement woke Scotty, who opened one sleepy eye to see who it was rubbing up against him. He almost couldn’t believe it was really Pavel ( _Pasha_ ) Chekov in his arms, but after a moment’s thought, he remembered the night before. Drinking and talking about their love lives, and hadn’t the lad said something about liking him? Something about choosing him if he’d known…? But no. That had to be the vodka talking. He couldn’t have meant it. Even if he was lying half-sprawled over Scotty’s body, pressing their morning erections together. That was just nature. It had nothing to do with him. But he kept his arms around sweet Pavel anyway, justifying himself with the idea that it was innocent, he wasn’t taking advantage. And if Pavel didn’t like it, he would pretend he’d been asleep all the time.

“Good morning,” Pavel whispered, nuzzling his throat.

“Morning, Mr. Chekov. Pavel,” he stammered.

“Pasha.”

“Pasha. Ach, ye’ve got a black eye after all. Are ye all right? Yer no’ hungover, are ye? Do ya remember last night?”

“Absolutely. I am fine, Monty. I remember ewerything and I regret nothing.”

“Really? Pasha, how can ye? I know tha’ Steele broke yer heart an’ yer feeling alone an’ loveless, but ye don’ want—me.”

“But I do. You undersell yourself, Chief Engineer. You are so brilliant and handsome, so wery sweet and kind, and such a good drinking partner. I cannot think of anyone I would rather spend my time wit’. Unless—unless it is you who do not want me.” His voice quavered a little and he started to pull away. All of last night’s kindness suddenly appeared to him in a different light. He’d run into Monty in the hall, bleeding and sobbing. Of course Monty had taken care of him. He was a superior officer and a nice man. It was both his responsibility and a moral obligation. Drinking with him was just what any friend would do. Anything else must have been Pavel’s imagination.

Then Monty’s arms were tightening pulling him close again.

“No, Pasha. I—I’ve loved ye for a long time,” he whispered. “I just could nae say so. Not wi’ ye being so young an’—an’ perfect. Working wi’ ye is the most fun I’ve ever had, in my life. But when ye started seeing tha’—tha’ Lieutenant—he was so young an’ handsome. Not at all like me.”

“That is right, Monty. He is nothing like you, and that is sad for him. You are a good man and he is not. I told you last night that I would rather be wit’ you, and zat iz still true. It—it vill always be true.” He blushed a little at the sound of his own faltering voice and hid his face against Scotty’s neck.

The friendly hand that had rocked him to sleep returned to cradle his head. Neither of them spoke for a long time, and then Scotty cleared his throat.

“Ye should take a shower, love. Get yerself a robe an’ we’ll have some breakfast before ye go on shift.”

“All right.” He took a deep breath and swallowed hard, plotting in his head how to say the tricky words exactly right. “I love you, Monty.”

“I love ya, too, Pasha.” He almost went for a kiss, but somehow it felt too soon. They had time. All morning, even. Pavel slipped out of his arms with a smile and went over to the replicator to get a robe and toothbrush. He gave Scotty a sweet smile and went to the head to clean up.

When he came out, Scotty took his shower. He thought about Pavel sitting out there, waiting in his long black robe. It was hard being away from him even for these few minutes, so sure was he that the young man would be gone when he returned. But at the same time, he couldn’t help looking at his pale, pudgy body in the mirror and wondering what the bloody hell he was thinking about. There was no guarantee Pavel would want to look at him naked today, but it might come up and he wasn’t nearly as excited by the prospect as he thought he should be. Maybe what they needed was a couple good meals and a full day’s work. Then they could see each other naked in the dark. Yes, that was a better idea. Spend the day thinking it over, getting used to the idea. Anticipation was a sweet aphrodisiac.

He belted his white robe tightly and opened the door. And there was Pavel in front of the computer console, one foot up on his chair, his knee against his chest showing long pale legs red with road rash, the plush black robe falling off one shoulder to expose white skin lightly dusted with freckles. Suddenly Scotty didn’t want to eat anymore.

“Pasha,” he said quietly. The ensign looked up and smiled, running his hand through his damp, curly hair.

“There you are. I was working on that program from yesterday.”

“Were ya? Ye know, love, ya don’ have to try so hard. Ye’ve been chattering at me in tha’ adorable thick as cream accent for the better part of a year an’ I always understood ya just fine.”

“Really? It does not bother you that I—that my Standard is so poor?”

“Poor? Ach, laddie, ‘tis better than mine. Ye’ve nothing at all tae be ashamed of.” He took a few steps and Chekov dropped his foot to the floor, sitting up straighter. The robe slid down a little farther, displaying his upper arm and part of his toned, muscular chest.

“You are wery sweet, Monty.”

“I’m not being sweet, wee Pasha. Letting ya be yerself is no gift. ‘Tis yer right.”

Pavel said something in Russian as he got to his feet. He pulled the robe back up onto his shoulder and Scotty felt a brief stab of disappointment. But it had been his idea to wait, even if he never did say it out loud. The disappointment didn’t last, though. He hardly had a chance to realize it before Pavel was unbelting the robe. It fell open and Scotty froze at the sight of so much smooth skin, pale and freckled, and speaking of cream…

“Pasha?”

“Monty?” he replied, smiling with provocative innocence. He reached for Scotty’s belt, tugged it loose, and laid his hand on the round belly of the man he loved. “Vill you come to bed with me now?”

“Are ya sure ye don’ want breakfast?”

“I am only hungry for one thing right now.” He caressed Scotty’s chest lightly before taking his hand.

“Ya know I am nae doing this jus’ because yer vulnerable?”

“Da. And I am not doing it because I had my heart broken. So we are agreed that we are not using each other?”

“Aye, we’re agreed.” Scotty squeezed his hand and led him over to the bed. They shed their robes and Pavel examined his new lover carefully, with a pleased smile and tickling fingers. Scotty blushed painfully at the inspection of his pudgy tum and small but undeniable man-breasts. But Pavel pushed him down and kissed them, biting his nipples and making him moan like a girl. He suckled gently as his right hand crept up Monty’s throat, stroking across his cheek and finally winding in his hair. He slipped one knee between Scotty’s thighs and pressed firmly against his cock. Pavel was a little impressed by the size of him, long for his height and not scarily thick. He wasn’t afraid of this sweet man, but it was reassuring to know for a fact that he could handle it.

He rose up and kissed Monty softly on the lips, smiling at the joy of tasting his mouth for the first time while rubbing against his naked body. It felt like they might have skipped a step or two, but he didn’t mind. They’d surely been friends long enough to be allowed to get down to the point. Scotty apparently agreed because he grabbed Pavel around the waist and threw him down on his back. Pavel grinned up at him, prepared to be thoroughly and roughly fucked. But Scotty paused, staring into his eyes.

“Monty?”

“Ye look so vulnerable, wee Pasha.” He ran his fingertips lightly over the bruised and swollen eye, then lowered his head and kissed it.

“I am much tougher than I look, Monty.”

“Are ye, then?” He kissed Pavel’s eye again, remembering the sobbing boy who had collapsed and banged his head last night.

“I am. You can do as you like wit’ me, l’ubimaya.”

“I can? In that case…” He rose up on one elbow and took Pavel’s hand in his. Turned it over, examined the rug burn, and kissed his palm tenderly. Then he laid it down and picked up the other hand, repeating the performance. He moved slowly downward, caressing soft skin, but deliberately not touching the straining cock. He kissed skinned knees instead, and then broke the solemnity by tickling the backs of them. “I wanted tae do that las’ night, but it did nae seem appropriate.”

“No?”

“Not like it does now.” He kissed his way back up the long pale legs and swiped his tongue the length of Pavel’s cock from root to tip. Pavel bucked his hips unconsciously and Scotty sucked him down his throat with an eager slurp. The unlovely truth was that Scotty was too old and had gone untouched for too long to be able to start this on even ground. Working the boy up to a hair trigger first was the best way to avoid embarrassing himself.

“Monty,” he cried and then lapsed into Russian, babbling happily as he thrust. It was about the best thing he’d ever felt, warm and wet and—loving. That was what made it better than anything he’d done before. He felt Monty’s caring in every touch, every kiss and caress, and knew that he’d been fooled before. Fucking _wasn’t_ love, but this was. Pavel wound his fingers in Monty’s hair and tugged gently but firmly, pulling him up to kiss his mouth again.

“Vhat do you vant?” he whispered, barely making it come out in English. “Should I turn ower for you?”

“No, love. No, I want to look at ye,” Scotty said, easing himself in between those sinfully long legs. Pavel wrapped around him with a drawn-out moan of pleasure, arching up into him and fitting their cocks together, intensifying the sensation by unknown orders of magnitude.

“You could be inside me.”

“Aye, but this is better. For now.” He slipped his hand between their bodies and cradled Pavel’s shaft against his soft belly. The boy cried out again, bucking and sobbing and coming helplessly in his hand.

“Monty,” he whispered, and that was enough to finish Scotty. He came with a soft grunt, biting Pavel’s shoulder to stifle the sounds that his young lover was so desperate to hear. Pavel grabbed his ass and jerked hard, bringing their bodies together one more time at the most sensitive moment.

Scotty did shout then, embarrassed but unable to help himself. He collapsed on top of the smaller body, panting heavily as he rolled off. Now that the moment had passed, he was embarrassed by a lot of things, starting with his weight. But Pavel moved into his arms, draping his leg over Scotty’s hip and pressing their sticky bellies together.

“Zat was so sweet,” he murmured, resting his head on Scotty’s shoulder. “I love you, Monty. I hope you know zat.”

“Aye, I know, Pasha. Darling Pasha, I love ya, too.” It didn’t matter that twenty-four hours ago Pavel thought he was in love with someone else. Scotty knew that such things happened to kids his age, and if it turned out that Pavel was doing it again, clinging to him because he was sad or because he had developed an understandable crush on an officer he admired, that was all right. Scotty loved him just the same and wouldn’t break his heart.

***

They showered together this time, Scotty no longer so worried about his appearance, and had some replicated breakfast, cuddled together on the bed in their robes. It was hard for Scotty to take his eyes off the freckled limbs that kept peeking out from the soft black fleece, but he was just hungry enough to ignore the desire tensing in his groin. For the first time, he wondered how well he’d be able to keep up with a man who was technically still a teenager. It was easy to forget, when working and talking tech with Pavel, that he was only eighteen.

“Are you worried about something, l’ubimaya?”

“No, not worried. Hoping I’m man enough for ya, is all.”

“You are the most wonderful man I know. I want only one thing from you, and I think it is a small matter.”

“Wha’s that?” he asked, setting down his bread and licking strawberry jam from his thumb. Pavel took his hand and licked jam off the rest of his fingers, smiling sweetly.

“Other than the friendship, and love, and wonderful sex, that is.”

“Oh, aye? Tha’s better.” Scotty dipped a little jam on his finger and smeared it on Pavel’s lips just to see him lick them. Pavel blushed and went on.

“I would like to accompany you down to engineering for the start of your shift. It will be easier to show my face there for the first time if we are together.”

“Wha’ ever ye want, wee Pasha. But if I were ye, I would nae be so worried aboot wha’ those guys think. They should be more worried aboot wha’ _I_ think.”

“I hope you do not make too much of a scene,” he said slyly, ducking his head and looking up at Scotty from under lowered lashes.

“We’ll see wha’ I do, love.”

“Vhatever you say, Commander,” Pavel said with a coy grin.

“Ye’ll have dinner wi’ me tonight, won’ ya? Maybe spend the night again?”

“I vould like zat.”

“Yer doing the accent on purpose, aren’t ye, laddie? Ye already know wha’ it does to me.”

“I suspected. Not eweryone likes it. Zat iz how I know you are special.”

“Yer the special one, Pasha. But,” he went on, setting his plate aside, “we need tae be on our way if ye want tae show up Steele an’ still get tae the bridge on time.”

“Right. I vill get a uniform and be ready in two minutes.”

Scotty shivered pleasantly, as he always did when Pavel said _meenits_ , watching his lover rise and go to the replicator. He wanted to sit there and watch the lovely boy dress, but doing that would force him to dress after and perhaps be subject to the same scrutiny. So he got up and pulled on his clothes while Pavel’s attention was split between looking at him and dressing himself.

“You are shy, Monty.” It was a simple statement, but loaded with implications. Chief among them that Pavel thought his shyness was cute.

“Aye, a wee bit. Ya would be, too, if ye looked like me.”

“You are wery handsome, and zat is ze last I vant to hear of it.” He spoke sternly, but softened it deliberately with the exaggerated accent and a kiss on the nose. For a split second, Scotty was tempted to turn around and push him back into the bed. But work was important, too, and there was always tonight. Ten hours in engineering followed by fourteen hours in bed with Pavel was his idea of a perfect day.

They walked down the corridor together, wanting to hold hands and not doing it, talking animatedly about Scotty’s ideas for improving warp core efficiency. People were staring at them, either because of Pavel’s black eye or the stories that were already flying about his sad breakup with Steele. Stories which Steele himself had started, with the help of Justin from Medical. It was always his favorite way to end a fling—with the thorough humiliation of the other party.

Pavel knew a little bit about that, having heard some of the stories about earlier affairs, but he was too in love to take them seriously. He also knew Steele had enjoyed humiliating him, but he believed Scotty’s assurance that everyone liked him and it wouldn’t hurt him in the long run. Pavel believed in his own specialness, and that was one of the things that made him so special. So he didn’t notice the stares or worry about the whispers in the corridor. Not when Scotty was talking and his heart was aflutter with excitement. For him, last night wasn’t about Steele’s laughter, it was about Scotty’s love.

Even when they walked into Main Engineering and everyone looked up, including Steele, who was already at his station grinning expectantly, Pavel didn’t care. He had already forgotten why he wanted to come down here this morning. The warp core was so much more interesting than whatever everyone else was thinking. They went to the main console where Scotty was working algorithms of his own. The whispers continued, but Pavel didn’t hear. He enthused over the programming, offered ideas, and rubbed his shoulder against Scotty’s as often as he could manage. It wasn’t until he was about to leave that Steele spoke up.

“Where’d you get the shiner, Pavel?” he asked loudly. “Have a bad night?”

He turned around, startled, and Scotty steadied him with a hand in the small of his back.

“Pasha,” he murmured, “ye should go.”

“Yeah, Pasha,” Steele jeered.

“Nyet,” Pavel said sharply. “You do not call me that.”

“That’s not what you said yesterday.”

“That was yesterday,” he said clearly. “Today I have nothing to do wit’ you. Except to tell you that you do not speak my name anymore.”

“Must’ve been a good night,” Steele remarked to the lieutenant beside him.

“I must go,” Pavel murmured to Scotty. “I do not vhant to be late.”

“Aye, Pasha. I’ll take care o’ this. ‘Tis unprofessional now.” He stroked Pavel’s back subtly and received a smile in return that was as good as a kiss.

“Da,” Pavel whispered. “I vill come back wit’ lunch.” Then he was gone, without acknowledging Steele again.

“Mr. Steele,” Scotty said, his voice rich with authority. “I no longer care tae have ye in Main Engineering. Yer a bad influence on the men, always fooling aboot an’ telling stories. From now on, ye’ll be stationed in Transporter Room Four.”

“TR4, sir? But—but that’s emergency backup. We’ve never even used it. There’s nothing to do there but mop the floor all day, and it doesn’t even get dirty.”

“Tha’s good. There won’ be anyone for ya to corrupt or gossip wi’, will there? Now get along before I have to report ye for insubordination. Ye would nae want to end up in the brig next, would ya?”

“No, sir,” he said stiffly and fled before the chief could test his authority any further. When he was gone, Scotty looked around and pointed to another man seemingly at random.

“Mr. Lusane, be so good as tae take over Mr. Steele’s post. An’ remember this if ya hear any good gossip ye might think is worth repeating.”

“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Lusane said briskly. He was a professional, a steady man with no taste for others’ business, and Steele’s antics had long bored him. All of Engineering would run more smoothly for the change.

The bridge was less disturbed, but everyone knew what had been going on. At least the part where Chekov had been sleeping with Steele and then got dumped in front of the entire officers’ mess. The surprise was that he was whistling as the doors of the turbolift opened. He stopped at once—it was unprofessional—but they were all still staring at his skinned cheek and black eye. He grinned cheerfully as he marched over to his station and sat down beside Lieutenant Sulu.

“Pavel, where were you last night?” he hissed. “I know you weren’t with Ken. And what the hell happened to your face?”

“I hit it on ze floor,” Chekov shrugged. “Is all right. I spent ze night wit’ Commander Scott.”

“You what? With _who_?”

“Meester Scott,” he whispered, with great relish. “He is wonderful, Hikaru. And I probably will not be home tonight, either.”

“Good for you. I guess,” Sulu said hesitantly, his face blank with confusion. “If he makes you happy.”

“He does. Oh, Hikaru, I will always be happy now.”

That didn’t turn out to be entirely true, but it was close enough. Scotty was never the cause of Pavel’s unhappiness and he was always there to comfort him when someone else was. Theirs was a long and loving relationship that far outlasted Steele’s tenure aboard the _Enterprise_ , or his memory among its crew.


End file.
